“You could put me on loudspeaker,” I offered, my voice pleading.
“We are sitting down to breakfast.”
“Breakfast?” I did the math quickly. “You’re in the States?”
He sighed, the background noise falling silent. “I will pass along your message, Kit.”
My fingers curled into a fist. “Did you get my present? I sent it to your address in?—”
“Look, if she wants to speak to you, she will.” Every word that came from his mouth reduced me in size.
I had power in every room I walked into. I chose to be polite, patient even, but when they took too much, I made sure to let them know it. I’d done it back in London, on set with the photographer. With Matteo…well, he had taken my power a long time ago.
“Please, it’s Christmas,” I begged, losing a little more self-respect. I should’ve known, before he’d even answered, how this call was going to go. I shouldn’t have given myself the hope.
Stupid fucking mistake.
“Don’t call again, or I’ll be getting my solicitor involved,” he threatened, his next words so careful. “Maybe even the press would like to know if that happens. You know how they love‘Wild Child Kit Sinclair’.”
My heart broke, wallowing in my pitifulness.
“Goodbye, Kit.” And then the line went dead.
I stared out the window, the snow undisturbed on the deck. Peace and quiet. What I’d wanted when I came here. How did everything feel like hell now?
“Okay, how are my babies doing in their little jacuzzi?” Jonah shouted, almost too gleefully as he leaped up the stairs.
I whipped around, suddenly remembering the potatoes I was supposed to be keeping an eye on, the pot boiling over on the hob.
“Shit, I left them for three seconds.” I stormed back over to the kitchen, but Jonah was there before me, moving the pot over to a different hob, the water receding. “I’m sorry, I should’ve paid more attention.”
“It’s fine,” he said, grabbing some more water to top up the pot, lowering the heat slightly before returning it to the hob.
“It’s not fine. What if, I don’t know, I set fire to them?” I grumbled, feeling worse and worse. “I could’ve fucked it all up.”
Messed up his Christmas too. Just add that to my list of screw ups.
“Well, if you set fire to it, I’d put it out and then softly mock you for the rest of the day,” he said, resting back on a counter, the situation contained. “If they got ruined, we’d peel some more. Easy.”
The way he answered all my concerns and made my mess-up small enough to swallow, bite-sized even, made me almost dizzy, the war of emotions still tearing me apart.
“Are you okay? You look a little pale,” Jonah asked as I sat at the counter.
“I’m fine.” I took a sip from my glass, the cool liquid doing a little to simmer the ugly feeling rearing its head within me. “It’s nothing. How was your call?”
He smiled weakly. “It was good. Everyone was round at my sisters for the holiday, so it was a quick catch up before the kids dig into their presents.”
“That sounds fun,” I managed, forcing the image out of my brain. The background of my call, the noise, the family.
What did that feel like?
“Chaos is another word for it.”
“How many kids does she have?”
“Three.” Jonah smiled. “All boys.”
I let out a heavy sigh at the thought.Threeboys?My cream couch back home shivered in fear.“I’m terrified for her.”
